Cursed
by HAL HARV and Watson
Summary: Set in the movie universe. What if Octavuis hadn't died? And what if his old friend Dr. Connors came to help him move on? Not intended as slash, but I can see how it can be interpreted that way.
1. Chapter 1

**This is an idea I had some time ago. What if Octavius hadn't died that night at the peir? What if he had survived?**

**This is set in the movie universe some time after the second film. Rated for language. **

* * *

_"I will not die a monster."-Otto Octavius_

_"I believe there's a hero in all of us, that keeps us honest, gives us strength, makes us noble, and finally allows us to die with pride, even though sometimes we have to be steady, and give up the thing we want the most. Even our dreams."-May Parker_

It was a bright Saturday in June, and he should have been dead. Plunging willingly into the river to destroy your experiment with full knowledge you'll drown tends to give you that feeling. Otto Octavius stood at the window looking out, while his extra four limbs lay limply on the floor. Every now and then they coiled slightly or rolled over just to confirm they still worked. Not that he wanted them to. He wanted to be dead or at least a normal human being. But _**NO**_. He just HAD to remain alive, and as a monster at that. And now he was hearing from the doctors his central nervous system was completely dependant upon the operating systems of his robot arms. He would never be normal again. If his experiment had worked, his fusion with the machine would have been hailed as an honorable sacrifice, but it had failed and he had gone insane. "Doc Ock" they had called him. Still did. Everyone was scared of him, like he might attack them if they were left alone. The nurses and interns really showed it the most, but he no longer had the energy to do anything. He heard a step behind him in the doorway, and he raised a robotic arm to see who it was. He didn't have the strength to face anyone.

It was Curt. Curt Connors. Dr. Curt Connors, who taught at the local university, who had been a friend to him.

"Hello, Otto," Connors said quietly.

"Hello."

Connors didn't move from the doorway. Instead, he leaned up against the door frame and looked right at the camera in front of him.

"Is what I hear true?"

"Depends on what you hear."

"You fell out of sanity and became the victim of your extra limbs. You nearly hurt a lot of people."

"It's true alright," Octavius said darkly. "The trial's in a week."

"They'll clear you. You were under the influence of artificial intelligence."

"I still could be."

"You can't even talk to an old friend face to face. I don't think your arms' thought processes are going to be an issue."

"They'll incarcerate me all the same."

"You always were so optimistic. It's hard to see you so much the opposite."

Octavius shrugged indifferently.

"At the very least tell me you have a lawyer."

Octavius shook his head. "I don't."

Connors sighed. "I know a law student. Top of his class and just passed the bar test. Would you mind if I asked him to help you?"

"No, I wouldn't. Go right ahead. I'll need all the help I can get."

Connors closed his eyes and sighed. He was practically throwing his help at the man. It was all he could do to not forget himself and beg Octavius to exploit their past friendship, to take advantage of him, to... He couldn't even let himself finish the thought. He resisted the urge to grab Otto by the shoulders and shake him fiercely to try and make him see reason, to lead him to the silver lining, to show him the light at the end of the tunnel. It was clear he was depressed, and it snapped something deep inside Connors. If Otto couldn't stand it... It made him shutter.

Octavius watched Connors through the camera, and he closed his eyes and shut out the picture for a moment. Chad was giving so much just to stand there and talk to him civilly, to offer his help, to try and point out the light. Octavius was doing everything to not take Chad's unsaid offer to ruin their friendship by abusing it, to call upon the debt Connors owed him because of the lizard thing, to... Otto couldn't find the strength to finish the thought. To see Chad so worried, so... hurt by this turn of events shattered something deep down in Octavius. If it could turn Connors into this... What hope did he have for himself?

Briefly, Octavius considered throwing himself out the window to end the pain he felt since Rosalie had died.

Briefly, Connors considered admitting the bond to Otto he had felt since the lizard incident.

_I feel your heartbeat,_ Connors whispered mentally. He could pseudo-see the heat pattern as if through a thermal camera, a side-effect of the lizard incident.

_I see your thermal core,_ Octavius whispered mentally. His arms' cameras were equipped with a heat feature, something meant for use in a reactor.

And Chad Connors decided to do something out of character. He walked up to Octavius, spun him around by the shoulders, and slapped him sharply across the face.

"Maybe that will shock some sense into you."

Octavius looked up into Connor's eyes and saw everything he had learned to love as a brother there, and everything Chad had come to realize about it now. Chad was the one person still alive who knew Otto on such a deep level.

It had started at one of those deathly dull shindigs thrown by universities. Connors was the new boy in the physics department, and "Octavius the Loner" had joined about a year ago to do work on fusion. They, the outcasts of their mutual science, found themselves bumping into each other at the punch bowl numerous times over the course of the night, and they started talking about the nuances of the quanta. And it had taken off from there. The rest of the night was spent debating particle physics at one of the back tables to Bruce Springsteen's "Born in America." All too soon, the party was over, and the two hurried to exchange contact information for when their bet about CERN came through. Octavius lost, and he showed up after one of Connors's lectures to fulfill his end of the bargain.

"How about lunch?" Connors had asked good-naturedly, and they were once again sitting across from each other discussing the universe and, towards the end, more personal issues. By the end of the week, they were contacts and friends. And it had snowballed since then, accelerating up through the lizard problem and Octavius's fusion.

Connors looked down into Octavius's eyes and saw the man he had considered a brother broken. And it nearly made him break down into tears of sadness, of frustration, of incredulity.

Otto closed his eyes. "I didn't know lizards could care," he said coldly, his alter-ego resurfacing.

Connors shoved Octavius hard enough to push him a few feet back with inhuman strength. "We swore not to mention it!" He covered the distance between them in milliseconds and grabbed Octavius again. He felt his blood cooling, and his heat vision heightened in sensitivity. He tried to calm down and counted backwards from 20. Emotions always stirred up the "Inner Lizard."

Octavius shook himself and whispered commands to himself. "No. No!" His mechanical limbs moved almost frantically, whispering conspiratorially inside his thoughts, trying to make him turn again. He needed help, needed **human** support, needed Curt Connors.

Otto went a little limp in Connor's hand as he concentrated on turning inward. Curt felt his humanity surfacing and his internal temperature rising again as he saw Octavius's struggle.

"I'm not going back!" Otto whispered intensely. "Look where listening to you last time got me!"

His eyes snapped open, and he seemed to see Connors for the first time. "Curt…"

"It'll be alright." He didn't dare let go of Octavius out of the fear the man would just fall over.

"You shouldn't be here…"

"I couldn't not come. You're my friend, Otto. My best friend."

"I don't deserve it." His eyes were dead.

Connors resisted the urge to slap him again. "You do. Misfortune is not the end. Look at me." He was referring to the contact with the chemicals that had caused the lizard thing.

Octavius did indeed look at him, but he was too deep in depression to find anything inspiring. "I'm not you, Curt. I couldn't even properly rebound from Rosie's death; how can I rebound now?"

"With help." Connors carefully watched Octavius.

"With help," Octavius echoed. He was going to have to take Connors up on that silent offer after all.


	2. Chapter 2

_**I'm not as proud of this as Chapter One, but here it is. Enjoy!**_

ONE WEEK LATER

"And what kind of person would Dr. Connors count as a close friend?" Juan Sanchez, the Hispanic law student, asked Dr. Smith, the psychiatrist he had had psychoanalyze both Connors and Octavius. Smith weighed his answer.

"Only someone with a high level of intelligence, a strong moral backbone, and a close control of his primal and instinctive urges and pleasure principle, called the id in psychobabble."

Sanchez paced in front of the stand. He had been a lawyer for 8 days, and already he was out-boxing the persecution. Connors had not made a mistake in his choice.

"And would Dr. Octavius fit this profile?"

"Indeed."

"And would he be in danger of relapsing into the control of his artificial limbs?"

Smith shook his head. "No, presuming he took care of his depression properly."

"Thank you, Doctor. No further questions." Sanchez sat down next to Octavius.

The prosecutor, a young blonde-haired man with potent energy called Steve Whitney, stood slowly and walked to the stand. Every movement was deliberate, measured.

"Doctor, you mentioned depression. Would you care to elaborate?"

Smith glanced at Sanchez, who nodded once. "Since the death of his wife, Octavius has been bordering on depression. And since when he attempted to sacrifice himself to end the fusion reaction and survived, he has been caught in a deepening depression."

Mentioning self-sacrifice had elicited a collective murmur of surprise from the jury. Octavius allowed himself a small portion of hope.

"No more questions." Whitney sat down.

"Call your next witness," Judge Baldwin told Sanchez.

Sanchez stood. "I call Dr. Curt Connors."

Connors walked up to the stand and was sworn in. Sanchez paced in front of him, and he watched him, eyes flicking back and forth in a slightly reptilian way.

"Doctor, how would you describe Dr. Octavius?"

Connors carefully calculated his answer. "Vain, egotistical, proud, and the best friend I've ever had."

"Would you care to expound on that last?"

"He was there when I needed him the most. I came into contact with mutagenic chemicals that threatened to change my whole genetic structure. Otto was able to come up with a way to prevent it. He gave two weeks to solve my problem that wasn't even his discipline. It was time he could have been using to work on his dream, nuclear fusion. Instead, he took a self-taught, hands-on, down-and-dirty course on genetics and biology, just to ensure little old me didn't turn into a mutant freak."

"Is it true you kept in close contact with Octavius after you two parted ways at the university?"

"It is. We met for lunch often enough, and he went out of his way to invite me to his lab."

"No more questions." Sanchez sat back down, and Whitney stood.

"Dr. Connors, is it possible you are exaggerating Octavius's role in your incident with the mutagens?"

Connors felt his anger leap up and lay ice over his veins. The Lizard was right there under his skin now, and he forced himself to take a deep breath. Now was not the time to reveal Octavius's solution had only partly worked. Whitney was trying to get him angry, and he had no idea. If Connors wasn't careful, Whitney would release the Lizard.

"I do not believe so. Traditional medical science had given up, but Octavius hadn't. And he succeeded. There is nothing more to say."

Seeing Whitney's reaction to the controlled response that was not what he had wanted was just enough to reheat Connors's core. Connors buried the Lizard and concentrated on getting Octavius off the hook.

"No more questions." Whitney sat down, and Connors moved from the stand. Sanchez called Octavius next.

Octavius was clad in a simple jumpsuit torn in the back to allow for his four tentacles, and someone had decided to handcuff six of his eight limbs. Utterly ridiculous; Octavius could break them easily. But they served as a reminder that he was currently considered a convict.

Really, there wasn't much they could actually charge him with: Grand larceny in the third degree, kidnapping in the second degree, vandalism as criminal mischief in the second degree, and then it in the first degree. He was labeled as a white collar criminal because of the larceny, and the first degree criminal mischief was probably going to be dropped due to the simple fact fusion reactors did not scientifically fall under the category of explosives.

What made it such a tricky case, Whitney mused was the simple fact that it was centered on high technology and sticky details that required one to fully understand the nuances of all of it. Octavius's defense was claiming his AI extra limbs had forced him to do it, which meant he was not responsible for his actions. Sanchez was comparing it to being drugged or hypnotized. As far as the law was concerned, he was probably right.

"Dr. Octavius, is it true you could easily break those handcuffs?" Sanchez asked.

"Yes." He was being careful to not expound too much or try being clever. There was too much in the balance.

Sanchez stood back. "Would you care to give us a demonstration?"

Octavius nodded, stood, and turned to show his back to the court. His tentacles tensed and ripped apart, tearing the chain with no effort. He turned back around and sat down, his now-free arms setting themselves in his lap.

"Why did you not do that earlier?" Sanchez asked.

"I had no interest to."

"Objection, your honor!" Whitney jumped up. "There is no way to tell if they had not planned that earlier."

"Indeed," Baldwin agreed. "Would the defense refrain from such evidence?"

Sanchez nodded. "Yes sir." He turned back to his witness. "Doctor, how would you describe your relationship with your extra limbs?"

"Now or before?"

"Before."

Octavius considered how to best put it. "They were, and still are, fused to my spinal cord. I was able to control them with my conscious thoughts before the inhibitor chip fried. After that, I was able to… feel their artificial intelligence in my mind. They were talking to me." His eyes revealed his horror at how events had conspired to put him at the mercy of the arms.

"And what were they saying?"

Octavius recalled their hideous words, and it was all he could do to keep from shuttering. "They said to rebuild my fusion reactor. I hadn't miscalculated and had to finish what I had started. At any cost."

"Did you listen?"

He had known it was coming, but he didn't find it any less damning. "Yes." He was not proud.

Sanchez waited for the noise to die down. "Why?"

"I couldn't find the internal strength not to, and what they suggested was so wonderful. It was my dream."

"No more questions."

ONE WEEK LATER

"And what kind of person would Dr. Connors count as a close friend?" Juan Sanchez, the Hispanic law student, asked Dr. Smith, the psychiatrist he had had psychoanalyze both Connors and Octavius. Smith weighed his answer.

"Only someone with a high level of intelligence, a strong moral backbone, and a close control of his primal and instinctive urges and pleasure principle, called the id in psychobabble."

Sanchez paced in front of the stand. He had been a lawyer for 8 days, and already he was out-boxing the persecution. Connors had not made a mistake in his choice.

"And would Dr. Octavius fit this profile?"

"Indeed."

"And would he be in danger of relapsing into the control of his artificial limbs?"

Smith shook his head. "No, presuming he took care of his depression properly."

"Thank you, Doctor. No further questions." Sanchez sat down next to Octavius.

The prosecutor, a young blonde-haired man with potent energy called Steve Whitney, stood slowly and walked to the stand. Every movement was deliberate, measured.

"Doctor, you mentioned depression. Would you care to elaborate?"

Smith glanced at Sanchez, who nodded once. "Since the death of his wife, Octavius has been bordering on depression. And since when he attempted to sacrifice himself to end the fusion reaction and survived, he has been caught in a deepening depression."

Mentioning self-sacrifice had elicited a collective murmur of surprise from the jury. Octavius allowed himself a small portion of hope.

"No more questions." Whitney sat down.

"Call your next witness," Judge Baldwin told Sanchez.

Sanchez stood. "I call Dr. Curt Connors."

Connors walked up to the stand and was sworn in. Sanchez paced in front of him, and he watched him, eyes flicking back and forth in a slightly reptilian way.

"Doctor, how would you describe Dr. Octavius?"

Connors carefully calculated his answer. "Vain, egotistical, proud, and the best friend I've ever had."

"Would you care to expound on that last?"

"He was there when I needed him the most. I came into contact with mutagenic chemicals that threatened to change my whole genetic structure. Otto was able to come up with a way to prevent it. He gave two weeks to solve my problem that wasn't even his discipline. It was time he could have been using to work on his dream, nuclear fusion. Instead, he took a self-taught, hands-on, down-and-dirty course on genetics and biology, just to ensure little old me didn't turn into a mutant freak."

"Is it true you kept in close contact with Octavius after you two parted ways at the university?"

"It is. We met for lunch often enough, and he went out of his way to invite me to his lab."

"No more questions." Sanchez sat back down, and Whitney stood.

"Dr. Connors, is it possible you are exaggerating Octavius's role in your incident with the mutagens?"

Connors felt his anger leap up and lay ice over his veins. The Lizard was right there under his skin now, and he forced himself to take a deep breath. Now was not the time to reveal Octavius's solution had only partly worked. Whitney was trying to get him angry, and he had no idea. If Connors wasn't careful, Whitney would release the Lizard.

"I do not believe so. Traditional medical science had given up, but Octavius hadn't. And he succeeded. There is nothing more to say."

Seeing Whitney's reaction to the controlled response that was not what he had wanted was just enough to reheat Connors's core. Connors buried the Lizard and concentrated on getting Octavius off the hook.

"No more questions." Whitney sat down, and Connors moved from the stand. Sanchez called Octavius next.

Octavius was clad in a simple jumpsuit torn in the back to allow for his four tentacles, and someone had decided to handcuff six of his eight limbs. Utterly ridiculous; Octavius could break them easily. But they served as a reminder that he was currently considered a convict.

Really, there wasn't much they could actually charge him with: Grand larceny in the third degree, kidnapping in the second degree, vandalism as criminal mischief in the second degree, and then it in the first degree. He was labeled as a white collar criminal because of the larceny, and the first degree criminal mischief was probably going to be dropped due to the simple fact fusion reactors did not scientifically fall under the category of explosives.

What made it such a tricky case, Whitney mused was the simple fact that it was centered on high technology and sticky details that required one to fully understand the nuances of all of it. Octavius's defense was claiming his AI extra limbs had forced him to do it, which meant he was not responsible for his actions. Sanchez was comparing it to being drugged or hypnotized. As far as the law was concerned, he was probably right.

"Dr. Octavius, is it true you could easily break those handcuffs?" Sanchez asked.

"Yes." He was being careful to not expound too much or try being clever. There was too much in the balance.

Sanchez stood back. "Would you care to give us a demonstration?"

Octavius nodded, stood, and turned to show his back to the court. His tentacles tensed and ripped apart, tearing the chain with no effort. He turned back around and sat down, his now-free arms setting themselves in his lap.

"Why did you not do that earlier?" Sanchez asked.

"I had no interest to."

"Objection, your honor!" Whitney jumped up. "There is no way to tell if they had not planned that earlier."

"Indeed," Baldwin agreed. "Would the defense refrain from such evidence?"

Sanchez nodded. "Yes sir." He turned back to his witness. "Doctor, how would you describe your relationship with your extra limbs?"

"Now or before?"

"Before."

Octavius considered how to best put it. "They were, and still are, fused to my spinal cord. I was able to control them with my conscious thoughts before the inhibitor chip fried. After that, I was able to… feel their artificial intelligence in my mind. They were talking to me." His eyes revealed his horror at how events had conspired to put him at the mercy of the arms.

"And what were they saying?"

Octavius recalled their hideous words, and it was all he could do to keep from shuttering. "They said to rebuild my fusion reactor. I hadn't miscalculated and had to finish what I had started. At any cost."

"Did you listen?"

He had known it was coming, but he didn't find it any less damning. "Yes." He was not proud.

Sanchez waited for the noise to die down. "Why?"

"I couldn't find the internal strength not to, and what they suggested was so wonderful. It was my dream."

"No more questions."


	3. Chapter 3

In the end, Octavius was cleared, but he was put on probation for a year. He had to meet with his probation officer once a week and would be contacted in a few days with the name of his probation officer along with the date and time of the first meeting. He was officially released, and he found Curt Connors once more waiting to offer his help.

"I don't want you to go back to your house," Connors said simply. "Too many emotional triggers."

Octavius looked at him carefully. What was he trying to tell him? "Then what do you suggest?"

"Stay with me. I have an extra room and would love the company."

"Are you sure? I couldn't possibly…."

"Yes you can."

Octavius considered it; stay with an emotionally-supportive friend or alone in a house full of painful memories. It was an easy choice.

"Alright."

Connors gave him a sad smile. Otto had a long way to go and a lot of uphill battle to win if he was going to become his past self. And all Curt would be allowed to do was offer his help from a distance. Octavius would have to face his demons on his own, and Connors knew Otto would want to do it on his own.

"Let's go."

* * *

Connor's apartment was dark, messy, and very warm. It reminded Octavius of those reptile tanks at the zoo. _Fitting really_, he mused. _The lizard in his tank_. He shook himself and tried to bury the alter-ego that had partially surfaced. He wasn't a cruel man by nature; it was these tentacles with their whispering. He only hoped Connors understood, but he should have. He was a duel-creature, too; human and reptile. They had both been transformed after an accident, and both were struggling with it. Connors was better at controlling it, but Octavius saw enough to know how the Lizard could run right under the surface.

"Well, it's not much, but it's home," Connors said, more at ease than he had been before. He glanced around for light switch, believing Octavius would be more comfortable with light. Octavius found it first, and he flipped it with an arm.

The light didn't help much, but it gave Octavius enough illumination for his sensitive cameras. They sat down at the table across from each other, two freak products of science and ambition. They were more alike than they liked to admit; and that was what united them.

"So," Connors said.

"So," Octavius echoed. "How's that student of yours, Parker?"


	4. Chapter 4

_**Hey! Sorry it's been so long since I updated. I lost track of the parent file for this story, and it's taken me a while to find it again, but enjoy! R&R!**_

The bell rang to dismiss class, and the whole class shuffled out of the lecture hall. Peter Parker, Connors's star student, was last, and he stopped to talk to his instructor.

"Can I talk to you, Dr. Connors?"

Connors sighed. "I'd love to, but I have a little problem I need to sort out first." Pete opened his mouth to reply, but Connors cut him off. "It isn't about your grades or your project, so I must ask you to wait until tomorrow morning. I'm afraid my problem-namely a depressed 500-pound eight-limbed man moping on my couch-will worsen."

Peter's eyes got big. "You mean you have Dr. **Octavius** staying with you?"

Connors nodded. "Yeah, and he can't find a way to rebound from everything. It's a bit frustrating, but I'll be honest, I'd like to personally thank Spider-Man for returning him to sanity."

"Actually…" Peter trailed off, regretting the sentence even as he started it.

Connors looked at him curiously. "Actually what?"

"I take photos of Spider-Man for the Daily Bugle. I'll tell him."

The physicist smiled. "Thank you."

Peter's mind was still working, and he said, "I could come over and talk to him, if you want. He seemed to enjoy talking to me last time."

"I can't ask that of you, but would you really?" Connors tried to keep the excitement out of his voice.

"Yeah, no problem. I don't have anything too important to do." Well, that wasn't strictly true, but he doubted Connors would believe he was Spider-Man.

"Thank you. Thank you very much. I am in your debt."

"No problem."

* * *

"How have you been, Peter?" Octavius asked. Peter shrugged.

"Busy. I finally got that girl. Your advice helped."

Octavius smiled. "Glad to hear it."

Connors looked from one to the other and cleared his throat. "I'm going to go get drinks." He turned and left for the kitchen.

"Thought he would never leave," Octavius murmured.

"You don't like spending time with him?"

"No, no! I love talking to him, but we can't talk about Spider-Man with him around." There was a slight edge in his voice and a gleam in his eyes Peter didn't like. "How's the spider been?"

"Fine. Loved by the public, hated by the press. Is hailed for returning you to sanity."

_The whole "returned to sanity" bit may not be entirely true,_ Peter realized with a jolt. Octavius had almost the exact look in his eyes Doc Ock had had. He decided to change the subject.

"What's with this place?" Peter asked, looking around.

Octavius's eye's mad gleam brightened and gained strength. "He's very… reptilian, shall we say? Mutagenic agents, you understand."

This was certainly not something Peter had heard before. "Reptilian?"

"Oh, yes… Reptilian. He has a cooler core temperature and enjoys sleeping in the sun because of it."

Peter was starting to feel like there was something just a little off in Octavius, if that look was any indication.

_The madness is setting in again, _Peter thought. It was clear in his face and his poise. His eyes were shinning, and Peter didn't like how he was looking at him. He had seen that look only when he had been on a rampage.

Then Octavius shook himself violently. He snapped his eyes shut and started whispering furiously under his breath. "Not again! Not ever again!" His arms whirred and clicked just as frantically, and he turned a blinding gaze at them.

"I may not be able to separate myself from you, but that doesn't mean I have to listen to you!"

At that moment, Connors saw it fit to return with soda. He saw Octavius and hurriedly moved over to Peter.

"What happened?"

"I don't know. We were talking, and then he started to phase back into Doc Ock."

"This is just what I was afraid of. It's his depression."

Peter's mind raced. "Try music to deal with it."

Connors looked at him. "What?"

"Music. His wife was an English major, and he studied science. Music and art are the only things left. Get him to play piano."

Octavius was far away, arguing with his mechanical half.

_It's wrong!_

_Is it really?_

_It is! I'm not going back!_

_Was it so bad? Was it?_

_It was!_

_Father-_

_Don't call me that!_

_Why not? You are our father._

_Don't cross that line! That would make Rosalie your mother, but she would never help create something so evil!_

_You can't just ignore us. We are a part of you, and you need us. You can't survive without us._

_I don't deny that, but I am not going to let you take control again._

_We were never in control. We merely suggested actions for you to take._

_You took advantage of my emotions, my pride! You turned me into a monster._

_Perhaps, but you commanded so much. You got exactly what you wanted and showed the world there was much more to little Otto Octavius. You had spine, backbone. What do you have now? You are staying with a mutant half-lizard in his tank talking to the radioactive spider._

The arms circled him, whispering.

_I'm not going to listen any more._

_We will always be here. You can't ignore us forever._

They fell silent, and he allowed himself to relax some. He looked at Connors and Peter, and they looked back at him.

"Are you alright?" Connors asked. "You look exhausted."

"I am. I didn't get much sleep last night, and fighting with these things isn't helping." He gestured to his tentacles, which looked at him.

"You should get some rest," Peter said concerned. Connors nodded.

"Yes, you should."

"I'll be fine." Octavius waved it away.

Peter shook his head. "Maybe not. You won't be able to stand up to your robot arms if you don't have enough sleep."

"Do you **want** to relapse?" Connors demanded. He was more intense than Peter had ever seen him.

Octavius sighed. "Fine. I'll take a nap." He got to his feet and left for the extra bedroom. Connors sat down limply right where he had been sitting and rubbed his forehead. He suddenly looked very tired and old.

"I don't know what I'm going to do. It's been a week since he was released, and he is no better. And the Daily Bugle is not helping. Do you know what the headline was the day the court broke the news of the ruling? 'Doc Ock walks free.' The whole article was about how the city had let a villain back into the public."

"I'm telling you: music and art. It's pure emotion."

Connors looked at him. "You may be onto something." He stood. "I'm going to see if I have anything here."

Peter followed him out into the kitchen, where he pulled a rolled-up poster from behind the microwave. He spun around and yanked open a drawer. A bottle of old green paint was produced, and he unscrewed the cap. Peter taped the poster to the table blank side up, and Connors poured the paint onto the paper. With his hand, he dipped his fingers in it and swirled it around.

"This just might work." He kept rubbing it, pushing it this way and that. Some areas it was so thin to show the white underneath, and others it was thick and dark. Peter looked at the developing picture, and he recognized the shape of it.

"It's a lizard."

Connors stepped back and looked at it. To his dismay and horror, it was a lizard. His subliminal reptilian ways were coming out. That might be something to worry about in the future, but he had Otto to worry about for now.


End file.
